


The Fading Peace

by transportive



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Quest Series - Jude Watson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Still, What-If, a few of those characters only cameo but, in which Caitlin picks a planet no one talks about and makes up everything about it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-18 21:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7331230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transportive/pseuds/transportive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's been an assassination attempt on the planet of Camden, just before the big elections. Security officer Ceru Wren thinks he can handle it alone, but an order from on high to call in Jedi overseers for the political upheaval means he doesn't get his way. Just who are these Jedi? What makes this so personal to Qui-Gon and his Padawan?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ceru Wren kept his hands neatly folded on the table, staring at the witness statement doc on the datapad in front of him while he listened to the Zabrak across from him describe the events. Ceru’s job was largely to find the missing details, to figure out what the witness was leaving out or exaggerating, to put it nicely. The precinct had found that Ceru had excellent observation skills, an amazing attention for detail, an impeccable memory, and a great capacity for character judgement.

The truth was, sometimes Ceru just _knew_ things.

Like right now, he knew the Zabrak he was talking to was lying.

Ceru was not a particularly patient man, but he knew he had to get all of the details before he rushed forward. If he accused the witness of lying, he might miss other key information that wasn’t in the statement. Maybe she would slip somewhere.

In the end the testimony was by-and-large fruitless and Ceru suppressed a sigh as he stood up and escorted the witness politely to the door, closing it behind her and moving back to the table. He spun the datapad around, typed a few swift notes, and then straightened up, catching a glimpse of the window he’d had his back to just before. This interview room had a decent view of Callen, the capital city of Camden. Or the only city, if you didn’t feel gracious enough to dub the slums that made up the other settlements on the planet ‘cities.’ Ceru himself had to admit he was disdainful, but he also felt sympathy for their planet full of lost souls.

After all, who was more lost than he was?

He sighed at himself, promptly dismissing that melodramatic thought. He had a home, a family—two mothers and a brother, in fact—and a job, which amounted to more than many of the immigrants and refugees that made up the planet’s population had claim to.

He just didn’t have his memories.

Which was also melodramatic. Ceru remembered a lot of his life, over half of it now by his count. He just didn’t remember a single thing about the first half. He remembered cruel laughs and taunts, he remembered stumbling around the streets of Galu, he remembered meeting the women he now called his mothers on their way off of Gala. But he didn’t remember anything before that. He’d still been a boy when he’d met Linnéa and Teera, they had guessed no older than fourteen, the perfect age to be a companion to their son, Tilu, but when they took him in they had collectively decided they didn’t care about the details.

They had declared his new birthday the day they formalized the adoption and had flipped a credit chip to pick his age. They’d all had a laugh about it.

Ceru smiled now, remembering it. It was one of his earliest memories, and it remained one of his fondest. He’d felt something then, a connection and a belonging that was missing from the first months of his memories; those were marked mostly by fear and confusion.

It was just that sometimes he felt like he was missing so much, something important, with maybe fourteen years of his life missing. Like maybe there were answers there.

But there was no time for reverie. He was a curious man, but he would not allow himself to become distracted by nostalgic longing for a past he didn’t have or want. He had a fine life now; he clearly didn’t need whatever it was he’d lost. Any family he’d had must have given him up, if they’d never found him.

At least, that was what he told himself. He didn’t care that it would have been nearly impossible to find him, when he didn’t remember his name and probably wasn’t even from Gala in the first place. It was easier to assume that that part of his life didn’t want him any more than he wanted it.

He turned brusquely from the window, back toward the door, and marched out into the hall. He saw his Zabrak witness talking, probably trying to worm her way into a reward for coming forward, to their Zeltron receptionist, who was probably working her magic to make the witness go away. The entire headquarters was teeming with diverse individuals; Ceru himself was one of only a handful of humans in the city’s security force. Which was for the best: Camdenians—or whatever people on Camden styled themselves, which wasn’t often Camdenian—didn’t much trust humans as a rule. Probably because it was a planet for the disenfranchised. Humans tended to come out on top on most planets, Camden was no different in that respect, and people didn’t tend to like that much when they were stuck crawling through the mud.

Even the current leader was human, and a lot of beings called foul play for him ever having received that position.

Thinking of Governor Surzu sent a chill down Ceru’s spine that he couldn’t explain. He had a bad feeling about something, but he kept his expression carefully calm. He went down the hall to the office of his investigating officer, a Rodian named Greenee (Ceru assumed his parents had a sense of humour).

“We have a problem,” Ceru said as he stepped into the office, meeting his boss’s large eyes.

“Dag right we do,” Greenee replied. He lifted his hand to cut off Ceru when he tried to explain the situation with the less-than-honest witness. “Not that. Whatever you’re going to say. I just got news that nobody’s going to like.”

Ceru tried to quell his annoyance and said, “do go on.”

“There’s been a murder.”

“Ah,” Ceru replied. “Well, that would be surprising.” Everyone knew that Callen’s murder rate was astronomical compared to any planet in the civilized Core of the galaxy. But for all his joking, he could _feel_ the anxiety roiling off of his boss. He just had to act like he couldn’t feel that, because he had learned by then that most beings didn’t pick up on other people’s emotion like he did.

“Right, just like your smart mouth. Let’s call it an assassination then.” Which had Ceru’s attention immediately. He straightened up. “Seems like Governor Surzu and his key opposition were supposed to have a meeting. Fortunately for everyone but the murder victims, they sent aides in their stead. Both aides ended up dead.”

Ceru nodded, and he felt the loss more than he should have. Death bothered him, which it shouldn’t but always did. But the leaders were safe, and he tried to be pragmatically grateful for that. But there was something here that he was missing, too, so he asked, “so I assume this is being kept quiet right now so no one panics?”

“Right.”

“So why tell me?”

Greenee sighed, his anxiety spiking into irritation for a moment. “Because T’Stal likes you. She didn’t have to tell me that you’re why she requested our team cover this. So when I asked if she wanted to talk to you, she jumped at the chance.”

Ceru nodded again. He disliked politics as a rule, but it was no secret that he was more of a fan of Dinla T’Stal, the main opposition to the current governor, than any of the other options. While he thought that she was a little too idealistic, thought that politics often lacked the capacity to solve any real problems, he liked her character and thought her their best bet for moving forward. He didn’t say anything.

“Interview room four,” Greenee said.

Ceru bowed his head politely and walked out, turning back toward the interview rooms. He didn’t bother counting them off; now that he knew Dinla was there, he could feel her presence and followed it. He didn’t think he could pick her out of a crowd by any means, but if he knew to look for her out of a number of mostly empty rooms, there was no question he could find her. He didn’t bother announcing himself or requesting permission to enter. This was his home base, and she would be expecting him.

“Officer Wren,” Dinla—a Shistavanen who never _looked_ friendly, but usually was anyway—greeted him as she stood. He waved her down. “Good to see you.”

“And you,” Ceru replied, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from her. “Despite the circumstances.”

“Of course,” she hastily replied.

“So, why did you want to see me?”

“I assume you want me to start with the details.”

“I’d be grateful.”

“Moresh and I—we were negotiating. He knows my popular support is building in the voting classes, and he wanted to take advantage of that. He thought that us working together would unite our supporters and—”

“Forgive me,” Ceru interrupted. “But I’m sure I’ll get the politics from the official report that you’ll have already filed. It would be best for us both if you used your time more prudently.”

“Of course,” Dinla conceded and ran her claws through the fur on her face. “You’re right. The Governor and I were to meet. But at the last minute he suggested we send our aides instead, I don’t know why. The meeting was this morning. After several hours, I was starting to get worried about Laurai. She was supposed to check in promptly if she wasn’t to return on time. She didn’t answer her comlink. Nor did Moresh’s aide when I contacted his party. I sent someone to investigate and…”

Ceru watched her fall silent, but he didn’t press immediately, out of respect for her grief. He understood Dinla must have been close to Laurai, to have trusted her with so crucial and personal a mission.

“The security guard had been stunned,” she continued after a moment, voice flat. “He didn’t know what had happened. And both Moresh’s aide and Laurai were dead. They haven’t told me how. Just that there was no saving either of them by the time anyone arrived.”

Ceru nodded and said evenly, “I’m sorry for your loss. I know you care for everyone who works under you.”

Dinla gave him a thin smile. She continued after she had taken a moment to collect herself. “I trust your team will keep this as quiet as you need to while we try to find out who was after us.”

“Because of course the real targets were the Governor and yourself.”

“I assume so,” she agreed plainly, but shuddered, causing a ripple of her fur. “But I also have a request of you.”

“Is that so?” Ceru asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

“I want you to call a Jedi representative to Camden.”

Ceru faltered. “A _Jedi_?”

“Yes.” She lifted one hand, shaking her head. “I know it seems counterintuitive to keeping things quiet. But if they keep a low profile, or say they are here for a different political mission, then no one will need suspect _why_ they are here. And if there is an assassin targeting a potential coalition of government, then we should bring out the big blasters. So to speak.”

“You don’t trust the security force to handle this on our own.”

“It’s not that, exactly,” she explained. “It’s just that you’re only seccers. If there’s political conspiracy, that means political unrest. Neutral arbiters might help ease any transitions we might need to make. “And,” she said stonily, meeting Ceru’s eye and dropping her hand back to the table. “I want every tool in our arsenal to find out who is trying to destroy the peace on Camden. They must be stopped.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Ceru, darling,” Linnéa greeted, tugging him through the doorway. Ceru was always welcomed into the Wren home with both figurative and literal open arms.

“You’re late,” Teera chimed in from behind Linnéa, but she was smiling.

“I’m never late,” Ceru pointed out mildly.

“You’re later than your brother.”

“Tilu’s here already?” he asked, kissing Linnéa on each pale blue cheek. He stepped over to Teera and gave his other mother a brief but tight hug.

“I am, brother,” Tilu said, having apparently been waiting for the right moment to enter the conversation. He grinned, white teeth offset by skin a darker shade of blue than their mothers’.

“It’s good to see you, brother.” Ceru stepped toward him and they reached out to one another, taking each other’s shoulders in hand.

The three Galacians had trained Ceru into physical affection. When they had first found him as a teen, dazed and memoryless, he’d been rather averse to much of it. But while the women were both reserved on the surface, they were anything but in showing their love for their family. It had taken them a while to open up to him—and at least twice as long for him to open up to them—but he was thankful that it had happened.

He would never be comfortable with public displays of affection, but he was more than happy to show his family how much he cared for them.

The apartment was soon filled with a quiet energy as they bustled about, the brothers catching up with one another while Linnéa finished cooking their supper. Teera sat with the boys, content to listen in and offer an occasional interjection or question.

“Any good news for me, Ceru?” Tilu asked after a time, mischief in his eyes, ever the reporter. “I could run an exclusive.”

“Only that my brother is nosy,” Ceru replied with raised eyebrows. “A trait that _I_ certainly didn’t inherit.”

“Just as mine is too stiff. Tell me, did you also fail to inherit all the good looks from mothers?”

“Surely.”

“I hope you both know,” Teera put in calmly, “that you’re adopted.”

Both brothers put on mock affront, exchanging another look before they turned to their mother.

“Doubtless meaning that _he’s_ adopted—“

“Of course you meant to say that _he’s_ —“

Teera smiled but said nothing to her pair of children.

“But I’m serious, Ceru,” Tilu said after a pause, with a smile that said that that was at least a partial lie. “If you _do_ have anything to share, you know it would help me a great deal.”

“I know, Tilu,” Ceru said in a gentler tone. “But you also understand that I don’t have the authority to make these decisions. Of course, should we want to make a press release I will put in a good word for you.”

“That’s all I ask.”

“If you’re all done arguing,” Linnéa said as she ducked her head out of the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready and I think that the boys should set the table.”

“Yes, mother,” Ceru conceded before Tilu could protest that surely _he_ shouldn’t set the table, as if he didn’t know already that Ceru was generally obedient and deferential to those he respected and so would do so without further request.

Ceru stood, entering the kitchen and preparing the dining room. It wasn’t long before he had helped Linnéa set the table and serve their rather simple supper of stew and rolls. It had taken some time for the Galacians, having once been an affluent family on their home planet, to adjust to the supply shortage that was coming their way on Camden. A cruel irony, given that that was one of the reasons they had chosen to leave Gala in the first place: a shortage in critical supplies that some suspected was politically manufactured.

Facing the same thing on Camden, it made the Wren family nervous. Or at least, the Wren family minus Ceru. He was ruffled by little, merely determined to find the answer and solve the problem. Besides, he wasn’t nearly as bothered by having little; this was the life he had, and he was content with it. He had had nothing before this.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long into dinner when their quiet chatter was interrupted by the sound of Ceru’s comlink. He glanced down at the offending device and heard Linnéa ask meekly, “can’t it wait?”

Ceru looked up to her and smiled sadly. “Unfortunately, no. You know how it is.”

“I do,” she sighed as her son pushed away from the table, snatching up his comlink and moving into the bathroom and closing the door so that his family wouldn’t overhear. It was a courtesy for all involved; the privacy of the security force as well as sparing his family the gruesome details.

“Sergeant Wren,” he confirmed, all business.

“Good, you answered,” the familiar voice of his captain replied. “The Jedi have arrived.”

Ceru felt his heart sink. He’d been dreading this day, in his own quiet way.

“Just now?”

“Right. They landed in Sector Seven. Get to it, Wren.”

“Of course, Captain. I’ll be on my way.”

Ceru was especially irritated that they had arrived at _dinnertime_ , but he supposed they couldn’t be faulted for when they jumped out of hyperspace.

“I’ve got to go,” Ceru announced as he stepped out of the bathroom.

“Didn’t you just?” Tilu asked.

Ceru ignored him and said, “there’s some important business at the precinct. And it does have to be me, unfortunately.” He walked over to the table, ruffling Tilu’s hair as he passed, then gave each of his mothers a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”

“So long as that’s not dinner at your home,” Tilu chimed in.

“Of course,” Linnéa said. “Just stay safe.” Teera nodded her agreement.

“I always do,” Ceru assured her with a smile.

He left without too much more fuss, stepping back into the warm evening air with a slight sigh. He wasn’t looking forward to meeting with the Jedi.

He’d been opposed to the idea in the first place, letting T’Stal know in no uncertain terms that he did not agree and did not think they would be necessary for the sake of conducting the mission. She had prompted him for his reasoning against it—and he’d found he didn’t have much logic to explain his hesitance. He simply had a bad feeling about it. But while he’d learned to trust his instincts, not everyone else had; certainly no one believed in the visceral feeling that came with them, a cold certainty that he knew he was right.

So even while his gut was screaming _not a chance_ , he found himself saying, “if that’s what you think is necessary.”

And when he’d asked, “and why me, exactly?” she had told him it was because she didn’t have the authority to make an official request, and Surzu would never concede. But the Camdenian Security Force would have the capacity.

So he’d taken the request to his captain, and he’d known before Greenee even replied that he was going to say, “sure, but you’re the one dealing with them.” Because no one would want to deal with the high-and-mighty Jedi Order and its representatives, so the person making the request better be ready to shovel some shavit.

Ceru didn’t want to deal with them any more than anyone else, but duty called.

But he _was_ curious, he found, as he drove the speeder closer to Sector Seven and the hangar there. There was a tiny bit of awe in him at all the stories people told about the Jedi, though no one on Camden knew anything about them for certain. He felt the tiniest bit of kinship with them, hearing of people do things that might have seemed otherwise impossible. Ceru remembered, when he was younger, doing inexplicable things. They had frightened him. They had frightened his mothers. Only Tilu, his best friend and companion, had been unafraid.

So to know that there were beings far more extraordinary than he—he was amazed, a little bit wary, mostly curious—but never trusting.

He parked the speeder outside and gave his authorization at the security check (which he was honestly surprised there was). He stepped into the hangar—and promptly found himself somewhat disappointed.

The ship was a standard refugee vessel, as if the Jedi had simply hitched a ride with any number of fleeing immigrants, though he saw no one else around except for a worker talking to who he assumed was the pilot. More important than the ship, though, were the Jedi themselves—both human, he noted, and the smaller one could practically have still been a youngling. He looked ridiculously small next to his imposing companion: a more dignified, older male.

Ceru thought humans a poor political choice, but no matter. The Jedi were the Jedi, he supposed. Representatives of the whole.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen,” Ceru announced himself as he strode into the hangar with confidence. The Jedi turned from their hushed conversation with one another to face him, the boy looking him over with thinly veiled mistrust and the man with curiosity—then surprise. Ceru stopped a few paces from them when he saw the look in the man’s eyes, hesitating for a split second under the double scrutiny of master and apprentice.

The silence stretched on a few long seconds.

“Master,” the boy said impatiently, and it seemed to snap the older man out of whatever was troubling him.

The older Jedi smiled slightly and bowed to Ceru, who looked at him in bemusement. “It’s no trouble,” he said. “We weren’t waiting long.”

“Right,” Ceru replied, bowing back slightly awkwardly, the gesture largely unfamiliar. “I’m Sergeant Ceru Wren. I’ll be escorting you through the city.”

The older Jedi looked uncertain for a brief moment, but ultimately the expression disappeared into a cool, calm demeanour.

“Thank you, Sergeant Wren. I am Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is my Padawan, Anakin Skywalker.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Why don’t you tell us why we’ve been summoned?”

Waiting for the new arrivals to climb into the speeder, the question surprised Ceru. He could see the Padawan felt much the same as him, casting his Master a suspicious look but not protesting. Ceru kept up his calm demeanour; as much as the Jedi were making him just slightly uncomfortable, he also felt the need to be proper and respectful. There was something about the Jedi Knight that commanded it. “You didn’t read my report?” he asked through a thin smile, even though he knew that wasn’t it at all.

“Thank you for forwarding that, it was most helpful,” Qui-Gon Jinn said earnestly and with an easy smile. “I would still like to hear it directly from you, however, so that we’re all on equal footing. I’m sure you understand.”

It was a perfectly reasonable request, because he did understand how the statement didn’t always match up to reality, but he still felt vaguely irritated at being questioned. But he couldn’t be too upset when the man simply gently prompted, as if it would be merely helpful to him and not a matter of impending political disaster.

“Of course,” Ceru said as he climbed into the driver’s seat of the speeder and started it up. “As you no doubt read, things are tense on Camden, as they always have been. The population is unstable, which unfortunately lends itself to unstable politics, I’m afraid.” He paused a moment, considering this, reaching one hand up to cover his mouth and stroke his beard. “The current Governor, Moresh Surzu, has enough support to hold a majority government, but barely. Many do not trust him. And it certainly doesn’t help that he’s human.”

“A trait you share, I happen to notice.”

Ceru frowned. “I’m Camdenian. I don’t know that he is.”

“An unpopular designation, from what I’ve heard.”

“It is true that most don’t consider this their homeworld,” he conceded, “and distrust is rampant because of it. But I do believe that the common will is gaining support.”

“And so,” said Jinn, “Governor Surzu went to his opposition, who marshals such a platform, in order to propose a coalition.”

“Precisely so. Dinla T’Stal. They arranged a private meeting to discuss matters. At the last minute, Surzu pulled out and sent an aide instead. T’Stal did the same.”

“And now both aides are dead.” Jinn frowned. “And the Jedi have been called for an investigatory purpose?”

“Merely reconciliatory,” Ceru corrected. “With all due respect, my force doesn’t need help with the investigation. We’ll keep you updated, of course, but your mandate is to smooth things over between the parties and keep the population from revolt. Consider it public relations.”

“Of course,” Jinn allowed with a polite nod. He didn’t seem convinced, nor did he push the matter.

But he also kept his piercing gaze on Ceru, something that clearly bothered the child in the backseat.

Uncomfortable, Ceru said, “Sector Six is the tourism district.” He doubted they appreciated the irony, but they would soon. “T’Stal has paid to put you up in one of our finer hostels there. I do hope you’re comfortable.”

“I am certain it will be more than sufficient, thank you. Now, who else is there?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“If I’m not mistaken, Camden typically has more than two politicians vying for power at any given time. They’re all independent parties, but it isn’t difficult to run for the post of governor, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You are not. There is a third major competitor, as well as a few fledgling upstarts. Ker-Lin Sway is the major competition—and he’s known to be ruthless.”

“Then I assume you’ve already questioned him.”

Ceru cast an annoyed look at the offworlder. “No, actually, but we’re going to. He has an alibi—he was off planet at the time—but we’re aware that doesn’t rule out him placing the order. He returns to Callen tomorrow, and has already said he will submit to questioning.”

“I see.”

“Why didn’t you just _make_ him come back?” piped up a small but firm voice from behind them. Ceru had almost forgotten about the apprentice. He couldn’t have been much more than eleven years old. “Sway. Couldn’t you have ordered him back to Camden?”

“A good question, Padawan,” Jinn praised.

“Because,” Ceru replied, a little impressed but also impatient with the child, “we don’t have enough incriminating information to detain him. While we could have applied for a court order telling him to come in, he had already agreed to submit upon return. There’s little point stirring up the mynock’s nest when you don’t have to, my young friend.”

“A wise lesson to keep in mind, Padawan,” Jinn assured the boy with a friendly glance over his shoulder, a touch of amusement in his eyes. Ceru couldn’t see it well, but the look died just a moment later anyway. “At any rate,” he said as he turned his attention back to their reluctant host, “we would like to be present at the questioning.”

Ceru gripped the steering yoke tighter. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. It’s Camden Security Force business.”

“And we are here in an official capacity at the request of said force, are we not?”

“Yes,” he reluctantly agreed. “You are. But as I said, you’re not here for the investigation.”

“Pride is dangerous in matters such as these.”

“It’s not—“ had Ceru not been driving, he would have closed his eyes for a moment, counted backwards to regain his calm. “It is not pride. It’s a matter of public appearance and public confidence. It’s hard enough keeping order in this city without giving the impression that we need help. But fine: if you must, you can be present. But the investigation is still up to us, your role will be supervisory at best.”

Jinn nodded, and all three of them fell into an awkward silence as they sped past hostels and motels. The streets were teeming with homeless beings. Ceru pulled over in front of a small hostel that seemed at least mostly clean. “And we’ve arrived.”

 “This,” the boy in the back said disdainfully, “is one of the _finer_ hotels in the city?”

 “Hostel,” Ceru corrected. “And yes. It’s clean and it has decent security. This is where there’s space for you, unfortunately.”

 “I bet your tourism business is booming,” Skywalker lamented.

 “There is none,” Ceru said with a sad smile. “This is the district where most people who have just arrived stay. A lot of pay-by-the-hour places for those who can afford it. Even more beings who are content to sleep on the streets while they wait to be registered as citizens.”

 “And thus ‘tourists,’” Qui-Gon Jinn finished for him, a bit of wry amusement in his eyes. “I see.”

 “The whole city isn’t quite this bad. You’ll see better later. And perhaps a governmental guest room will free up while you’re here.”

 Ceru watched as the two Jedi climbed out of the speeder and onto the street. He reached out and extended a hand. “I will look forward to working with you,” he said as a matter of politesse more than actual truth.

 Jinn looked at his hand for a moment, hesitating, but then politely placed his own in it.

 There was—something, Ceru didn’t know what—and he was startled for a split second. He quickly drew his hand back, opening his mouth to say something.

 Only to realize that if the Jedi had noticed it at all, he was content to ignore it: “Good night, Sergeant.”

 And then the Master and Apprentice both turned up the walk to their lodgings for the night and disappeared from view.


	4. Chapter 4

Though Ceru returned to the hostel bright and early (well, early), he wasn’t particularly surprised to see the two Jedi already waiting for him, looking well-rested and composed. Or at least the man was; the boy seemed far less enthused about starting their day when the sun wasn’t yet ready to commit to being up. But Ceru was already getting the impression that young Skywalker still had a long way to go before he was anything like his Master.

It was hardly his place to judge or assume; he himself was there only grudgingly.

“Sorry to wake you gentlemen up so early,” he called from the speeder even as he stepped out and moved around to open the doors for their guests. “But duty calls. Ker-Lin’s transport arrives in Sector One in an hour, and we’ll need most of that time for travel.”

“Why is he landing so early?” Skywalker complained.

“Events rarely follow a schedule, Padawan,” Jinn smiled. “Life happens in unexpected times and places. You should know that better than most.”

“He may be attempting to deliberately inconvenience us,” Ceru confessed, closing the doors to the speeder behind his guests. He still didn’t want them there, but there was no reason to be impolite about it. “He may have agreed to questioning, but he doesn’t have to like it.”

Jinn seemed to catch a subtlety there, for his eyes held a distant amusement. “Of course. We should nonetheless be gracious that he has agreed to have us at all.”

Ceru smiled to himself as climbed back into the driver’s seat. “Of course.”

Skywalker looked disparagingly between the both of them, annoyed at being left out of whatever it was that had just passed between the two adults. Ceru thought it best to ignore him as he switched on the repulsors and started up the vehicle, peeling away from the litter-strewn streets of Sector Six.

Sector One was quite a distance away, but Ceru didn’t assume there was any spite in the chosen location. While Sector Seven’s hangar was the hub for refugee ship landings, Sector One was by contrast a lot more affluent. Someone like Ker-Lin would naturally pick that side of the city over the other, not just for a perceived safety of himself and his property but especially pride, or at least giving himself a more affluent and in-control image. Ceru assumed it might backfire on Ker-Lin when it came to the general elections: the people barely trusted any government, let alone one that might see itself as above them in any significant way.

They were silent at first as they sped from Sectors Six to Five, the Jedi watching silently and observing their surroundings, while keeping a polite distance from Ceru. But after a time, as they cut into Sector Four, Qui-Gon Jinn spoke up to say, “I notice that the workmanship seems to improve as we travel. These are different districts of the city, I assume?”

Ceru nodded confirmation, noticing the Jedi looking at him now. “Callen is divided up into seven Sectors along latitudinal points. The further south you go, the lower the number, the wealthier the city—for what you can call wealth here. Most people don’t know that the Sectors have hard and fast coordinate markers, so they tend bleed into one another, but you can still generally tell when you’ve passed from one side of the city into another.

“The precinct is in Sector Four. It’s supposed to be the exact centre of the city, but you’ll find it actually sits several degrees to the south-west.”

Only Jinn seemed as amused as he was by this particular detail. So be it. Ceru found he didn’t mind if the boy was in on the joke or not. What was strange, though, is that for all Jinn’s eyes showed mirth, his smile seemed strangely sad.

Ceru didn’t question it; it wasn’t his place.

Unfortunately, that meant that they spent much of the rest of the trip in a silence that wasn’t entirely comfortable. But they reached the hangar without any real event and entered just as the personal cruiser was being docked and checked in.

The three of them must have made for an intimidating trio, all stood together in uniform and watching stoically as the workers hurried to get Ker-Lin Sway ready to go and talk to the officer and his Jedi companions.

And when Ker-Lin and his bodyguards stepped out of the ship there was a momentary charged stare down between both groups.

“I was not made aware,” Ker-Lin finally broke in to say, “that we would be meeting with _Jedi_.”

“Circumstances demanded them,” Ceru replied evenly; he had learned how much of the truth to give to avoid anyone like himself detecting the shadier aspects. “It is as much for your safety as anything else, unfortunately.”

“I see,” Ker-Lin answered, clearly not convinced but buying it enough to not press the matter. “Then you will understand why it is I wish for my bodyguards to be present while you take my statement.”

Ceru frowned. “I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

“Then I don’t want the Jedi to be there either.”

And there was the play: in an instant, Ceru understood. And he knew that his two companions did, too.

But for a moment, he said nothing, too shocked by what he felt: Jinn’s awareness next to him, almost reaching out to him. Confirming that he suspected the same as Ceru: Ker-Lin didn’t want the Jedi to see through him or be able to sway him.

After all everyone had heard stories of the Jedi being able to compel beings to do and say what they did not want to do or say; of being able to see into minds. Here in the Outer Rim, few trusted the Jedi—if they even knew anything about them.

But in those few instants of surprise and understanding, Ceru realized the flaw in Ker-Lin’s plan. And somehow the Jedi knew too.

Ker-Lin didn’t know that Ceru could do some of those things too.

“Fine,” Ceru gritted out.

And perfectly timed, the Skywalker boy burst out, “you can’t tell us to leave.” He played the role of untrained apprentice well. “We’re here on an official mandate.”

Ceru gave the youngling some credit in his mind, but played along. He lifted his hand in a staying gesture. “You’re not here for the investigation,” he said. “So he’s right to ask you not to oversee. You don’t have to like it.”

“Ridiculous,” Jinn intoned, milder than his Padawan but somehow severe in his gentle way. “You have requested our presence for a reason.”

“And as the one requesting your presence,” Ceru replied stonily, “I reserve the right to dictate when and where I need you.”

“Alright,” Jinn replied, playing at being annoyed. He lifted a hand, much like Ceru had done, to stop Skywalker from saying anything else. “If we must go, we shall.”

Ceru could feel the smugness roiling in Ker-Lin for ‘disrupting’ the trio and apparently getting his way. Ceru easily kept himself from smiling.

Of course, the Jedi had every right to be there and the bodyguards did not. The bodyguards were potential witnesses whose testimony could be tainted by hearing Ker-Lin’s. Legally they couldn’t be present for his questioning.

An artificial distinction, to be sure, when talking about witnesses who had just spent some time travelling with the weequayan, but it all worked out.

“Then I will escort you back to the station,” Ceru said. “As I trust our four friends here will find their own ways back to where they need to be. 

“Of course,” Ker-Lin replied, smile all teeth. Ceru gestured for him to follow, and he did.

Like blasting burra in a barrel.


End file.
